Chapter 26: The Hidden Room and the Masked Truth
Rin exhaled, feeling an unfamiliar lightness in his chest. For the first time in a long while, he was completely off the grid. The Wall—an entity so powerful it was said to see everything in the Down World—could no longer track him.
Those whose deaths have been seen by the Wall can no longer be watched by the Wall.
It was an old rule, a loophole that had worked in his favor. His fake death had been recorded, which meant he was invisible now. No more prying eyes. No more omnipresent surveillance.
And yet, instead of feeling relief, a sense of unease crept over him.
If such a rule existed, who else had taken advantage of it before him?
Shaking off the thought, Rin moved through the dimly lit streets toward the bar where he had last seen Hudson. His footsteps were light, but his mind was heavy.
The bar was as chaotic as ever—rowdy drunks spilling their drinks, old men gambling in the corner, and a thick haze of smoke lingering in the air. It smelled of sweat, cheap liquor, and desperation.
But something was missing.
Hudson.
Rin scanned the crowd. The old drunk wasn't here. Not at his usual spot, not hidden in the shadows. Where the hell did he go?
Frowning, he walked to the counter and flipped a stolen silver coin onto the wood. "The VIP room," he said, keeping his voice casual.
The bartender—a burly man with a scar running down his cheek—hesitated, eyeing him warily. "Ain't been used in a while," he muttered. "You sure you wanna be alone in there?"
Instead of answering, Rin pulled out a heavy bag of coins. Stolen gold. Money Engine had worked for.
The bag hit the counter with a satisfying thud.
"From now on," Rin said, voice even, "no one enters that room again."
The bartender's eyes widened. He glanced at the bag, then at Rin, before greed took over. He snatched the money and nodded.
"Understood."
Rin stepped past him, pushing open the heavy wooden door that led to the private section of the bar.
Dust-covered bottles lined the shelves, and the scent of old wood filled the air. The VIP room had been abandoned for some time, but that wasn't what caught Rin's attention.
It was the mark.
Carved into the far wall, almost unnoticeable beneath layers of grime, was the Mark of Azra.
Rin's fingers traced the emblem, feeling the faint grooves in the wood.
Why was this here?
Without hesitation, he pressed against the symbol.
Click.
A portion of the wall groaned, then swung open, revealing a narrow passage leading into darkness.
For a moment, he hesitated. Who had built this? Why was it hidden?
Steeling himself, Rin stepped inside.
The air inside was thick with the scent of parchment, ink, and something metallic—machine oil? The room was larger than expected, lined with bookshelves filled with dusty tomes.
A single desk stood at the center, littered with blueprints, diagrams, and old notes.
Rin's eyes narrowed as he picked up a book.
The Mechanics of Ascension.
His grip tightened. Ascension.
Was this connected to his father?
More books detailed mechanical enhancements, ancient technology, and something called The Path to the Divine Gear.
But something was wrong.
Some of the shelves were empty.
"Why would they steal some things but leave behind books filled with invaluable knowledge?" Rin muttered.
His mind raced. If these were considered leftovers, then what exactly had the intruder taken?
The Symbol and the Questions
Then he saw it.
A door.
Not like the hidden entrance he had just discovered—this one was different. Locked.
A strange symbol was etched into the keyhole, intricate and almost otherworldly.
Rin's heartbeat quickened. He had seen this before.
Back in the cave when he was thrown into the Down World. The markings on the cave walls—they had looked like this.
His fingers hovered over the symbol.
Did his father have connections to the religious sects?
"What the hell were you doing down here, old man?" he whispered.
The realization gnawed at him.
How did his father ascend to Sky City?
What was his true purpose in the Down World?
Every time Rin thought he was close to understanding, the world pulled him deeper into its secrets.
And then, his eyes landed on something that sent a chill down his spine.
A clown mask.
A suit.
A scythe.
And then, a list.
Rin stepped forward, his fingers trembling as he picked up the old, yellowed paper.
The handwriting was jagged, almost desperate.
"To kill what I hate, I have to become it."
Beneath the message, a list of names.
Some were crossed out. Others remained untouched.
His breath quickened.
Was this his father's?
Or was this a path meant for him?
The air in the room felt heavier, pressing down on him. The pieces of the puzzle were coming together—but Rin wasn't sure he wanted to see the full picture.
But one thing was clear—his father was not just an ordinary man.
And now, Rin had to decide.
Would he follow the path laid before him?
Or would he carve his own?